


gordon take the wheel

by orphan_account



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life
Genre: Almost a car crash but not quite, Bad Driving, Gordon Is A Stubborn Bitch, Gordon POV but no tag cause the tags aren't split yet, Heart-to-Heart, Just Benrey and Gordon being idiots really, Road Trips, kind of, the rest of the team is there too but only briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Benrey seems unfazed. In fact, he looks downright disdainful. “...so? Dumb baby Freeman needs his beauty sleep, yes?”With a new surge of adrenaline sent through him by spite and spite alone, Gordon lets his arms drop to his side and says “No he definitely does fucking not.”( AKA: Gordon desperately trying to keep himself from falling asleep at the wheel in order to prove Benrey wrong. )
Relationships: Benrey & Gordon Freeman
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	gordon take the wheel

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Road trip fic. Just a fun road trip with the science team. Just good ol' fun."
> 
> at first i was so nervous about this because i am not even joking when i say i have never written a fluff fic before. literally i don't think i've ever written a fic that doesn't involve at least one character having a mental breakdown or something LOL. special shoutout to my best friend nate for suggesting the whole sleep deprived gordon thing and thank you very much to the anon that requested it originally! i'm sorry it took two weeks and i'm sorry it's not exactly good ol' fun. i was getting quite tired and losing steam at the end after working on it for so long (i think you can tell u_u) but i hope you like it anyway!
> 
> no tws, gordon is a negligent driver but there's no crashes or anything, just brief mentions of gordon worrying about it.

Even before everything happened at Black Mesa, Gordon had an annoying habit of working himself right down to the bone. In many cases, grinding right through the bone and down through cartilage and tissue, until he only had the thinnest spindle of marrow left to grasp onto. The scientist had lost more nights than he could count sat at a desk, or a laptop, nails clicking against the porcelain of a half-empty mug, pushing through and through and onwards and upwards and sidewards until eventually he’d get to a point he could stumble to his knees and burn out. It had happened far too many times at Black Mesa, both before and after the resonance cascade, though he’d easily take a million caffeine-driven research sessions over staring at the door with wide, paranoid eyes and a twitching trigger finger again.

Gordon did not, however, expect his latest crash to take place at a gas station in Colorado.

It hadn’t been his idea to go on a road trip, but he wasn’t exactly against it either; just cautious, more than anything. Tommy had been the one to suggest it, something about a “bonding activity”, and Coomer had been quick to back his ex-coworker up with an array of benefits related to teamwork and friendship and “Social Relations Between Peers” that Gordon was pretty sure he ripped straight out of a Black Mesa flyer. Bubby had stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, but it seemed to be clear now that whatever Coomer wanted, Bubby would begrudgingly go along with. And Benrey, who Gordon had almost killed (again) about a week earlier after finding him rifling through his trash like a bloodied, half-dead humanoid raccoon, had said the idea sounded “poggers”.

(A word that Gordon highly regretted ever teaching him, or actually teaching him about Twitch at all, because now it was all he seemed to fucking say.)

(And also Gordon didn’t care about Benrey’s opinion on anything, so he wasn’t sure why he’d even let that influence his decision.)

And so, after several not-so-convincing conversations about how they would definitely not be caught by the authorities- most of them occurring after Gordon found out Bubby had not actually rented an RV, but rather stolen it- the Science Team had set off on yet another adventure, albeit one that would hopefully involve less military and no amputation. They had started in Seattle, where Gordon had settled back down, and made their way east; there was no real plan of where to go or when to stop, with the only instruction being to Avoid New Mexico Entirely. Each of them had their own little wants, of course; Benrey had said he wanted to visit every Gamestop on the way and had actually started marking them all down on a map before Gordon had snatched the sharpie off him. Gordon’s own original plan had been to hike through national parks- Yellowstone, which he’d visited as a kid, or maybe the Rocky Mountains- but he’d forgotten his bones seems to physically age at double the speed any human’s should, so most of their stop at Yellowstone had consisted of walking Sunkist on the flattest slopes they could find while Coomer recited article after article about squirrels and trees and supervolcanoes.

It was just reaching early evening when Bubby (who almost definitely didn’t have a license, now that Gordon thought about it) had declared “this light won’t stop fucking flashing at me” and they had swung into the nearest gas station. They must be somewhere in the Eastern Plains now, Gordon realised, because as soon as he stepped out of the RV for fresh air he was hit with the fact that the area was utterly  _ barren;  _ honestly, he was surprised there was a rest stop here at all, because it seemed like there wasn’t anything else for miles. Just the sand and dirt and grass melding into an earthy horizon, the only thing of vague interest being the bright, burning sun that was casting the last of its early evening rays over the plains. He should probably have been paying attention to their surroundings before now, rather than being on his phone. That was the point of a road trip, right? The scenic views? That was definitely one of the benefits Coomer had listed off.

Coomer and Bubby had already gone ahead to pay for the gas- did they even have money? He should probably have asked that before they went inside- and Tommy was asleep with Sunkist inside the RV, leaving Gordon alone with nothing but a rusted diesel pump to rest his aching back against, and his thoughts.

He lasted about twenty seconds before his prosthetic hand found its way to his temple, groaning as the other nursed the sore point of his elbow where silicone met skin. It was always like this- the adrenaline would only carry him through for so long, and as soon as it stopped, he was left with this crushing feeling in his chest and unbearable tension in his head and just pure, utter exhaustion coursing through every fibre of his body. Realistically, this should only happen when he’s been working himself through stress, but- God love them, the Science Team  _ were  _ stressful- they were driving a stolen RV, for fuck’s sake! It wasn’t like Gordon wasn’t enjoying the trip, but it hadn’t hit him till now how on edge being outside still made him, the paranoia and PTSD coupling with the fact he’d already been somewhat of a worrier at the best of times to form some sort of super mental illness intent on making his life just that bit harder.

“Gordon needs sleep.” He speaks it out loud, not that anyone’s there to listen; talking in third person, to himself, was not a good look but it was something Gordon found himself doing more and more. Maybe if he says it, he’ll actually do it. When was the last time he’d slept? He’d been driving for some time before Bubby took over, and he’d had a nightmare the night before so he only got like an hour’s rest, and… ugh. Trying to remember was just making him feel worse.

It’s only when he turns to go back to the RV and collapse in a heap- preferably somewhere next to Sunkist, who Gordon had learned was a pretty good pillow- that he realises he’s not actually alone, because there’s one member in their little gang he forgot to account for. Ironically, the one he always forgets to account for, because he never has any fucking clue what they would possibly be doing. As of right now, they’re standing next to him, thumb idly flicking away at a smartphone that definitely doesn’t belong to them- judging by the bright yellow case and assortment of stickers, it’s probably Tommy’s.

“Aw, you tired? Gordon Sleepman needs his nap, he’s goin’ to bed already?” Benrey doesn’t even look up from the screen when teasing him, something that, despite his exhaustion, manages to get under Gordon’s skin. Benrey has a way of doing that, even when he doesn't mean it. He usually doesn't mean it. 

“No, I…” As though to prove Benrey’s point, Gordon’s response is interrupted with another groan, hand rifling through his hair and relaxing at the back of his neck with his knuckles barely brushing against his hair tie. “..I’m a little tired suddenly, I- I dunno.”

“‘s cause you’re an old man,” Benrey replied without hesitation.

“Dude, I am not- you’re like, what- two years younger than me? Do you even age like a- you know what, never mind.” Gordon has already decided he does not have the mental energy for this sort of conversation. Finding out the details of how Benrey was actually Still Alive And Also Eating Froot Loops Straight From The Box In His Kitchen had been enough of a mental toll on him, he didn’t need to find out anything else about his weird semi-alien semi-fucked up lab experiment biology for at least another month. “I’m just a little out of it, you know, I’ve been driving- I had to stop Bubby from driving through that cactus patch earlier, and I haven’t been sleeping well, so I’m just kinda, burned out, you know?”

Benrey turns to look at him, and the glazed expression in his eyes tells Gordon everything he needs to know.  _ I didn’t ask for excuses, bro. _ That just manages to annoy him even more.

“Don’t gimme that look.”

“What? A guy not allowed to look at his best friend?” Benrey pouts.

_ We aren’t best friends,  _ Gordon almost snaps back out of habit, but he restrains himself to a simple eye roll. “You’re looking at me like- like  _ ‘Uuu, Gordon can’t even stay awake- _ ”

“Nuh uh, I don’t sound like that-”

“ _ -oooh, dumb baby Gordon needs sleep, blah blah blah-” _

Benrey seems unfazed by what Gordon thought was a pretty decent impression. In fact, he looks downright disdainful, though that seems to be one of Benrey’s three permanent expressions; the others being Shit Eating Smirk and Puppy Dog Eyes. “...so? Dumb baby Freeman needs his beauty sleep, yes?”

Now, if these were two normal people talking, this would be an easy end to the conversation; a simple “Yes, goodnight” or perhaps “Soon I will, yes”, or just any sort of affirmation, because God knows Gordon needs to get some sleep, or at least lie down and stare at the roof of the RV for a while and try not to think about anything. But these are not two normal people, this is Gordon Freeman, who is headstrong and stubborn and hates to show any sign of weakness, and Benrey, who despite actually not caring if Gordon sleeps or not has this edge to his normally monotone voice that maybe, just maybe could be interpreted as mocking. 

So, with a new surge of adrenaline sent through him by spite and spite alone, Gordon lets his arms drop to his side and says “No he definitely does fucking not.”

-

Gordon’s plan was foolproof. Run into the station to get a coffee. Failing that, some sort of energy drink. Maybe both. And then stare dead-eyed at Benrey from across the RV for the rest of the journey, making a point to avoid lying down or getting too close to anything warm and soft, Sunkist unfortunately included.

Now, there are two main hitches. The first being “why are you doing this, again?” This came up pretty fast, specifically when he was pushing several cans of pink Monster into Bubby’s arms and the older scientist grumbled something about “girl’s soda” and “pay for your damn drink with your own money” and “are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?” Which, at this point, maybe Gordon was. Spite is a cruel mistress, and a bit of a bitch too, and if Black Mesa proved anything it is that Gordon is nothing if not persistent in the face of impossible odds, even if those odds were keeping himself awake on a road trip just so you can tell your arch-nemesis slash rival slash friend slash one-time-3AM-shoulder-to-cry-on to suck it. 

The second hitch came in the form of Bubby announcing he didn't want to drive anymore.

“What do you mean, you- you’ve barely driven!” Gordon immediately countered as they left the station, having paid for the gas, the drinks, and what appeared to be some shitty cardboard cutout resembling Colorado to hang from the rear-view mirror. He wasn’t going to try and question Dr. Coomer’s purchases. Adds a bit of their own to the RV, anyway. Maybe he can pick up a novelty number plate next.

“I’ve been driving for six fucking hours Gordon, I need a break.” Bubby already seemed dead set in his decision, and trying to talk him out of it would be fruitless, Gordon knew- at least, not without admitting he was actually tired and having Benrey hold that over him for the rest of the trip and potentially his life. Wasn’t Bubby meant to like, not get tired though? Or was that just a Benrey thing? If he’d known he’d actually be living the rest of his life with two separate human experiments, Gordon would probably have picked up a manual, or a thesis or something before Black Mesa was reduced to ashes.

“Now Gordon, according to my calculations we only have 40 miles to go to the next rest stop!” Coomer piped up, helpful as always. “So it’s not a long journey at all.”

Gordon paused outside the RV doors as the older two stepped inside, starting to anxiously drum his fingers against the cans he was holding. “Can’t you drive?”

“Why, Gordon, don’t be ridiculous! Trying to hit the breaks with my PowerLegs would put a pretty hole through the floor of our recreational vehicle!”

Okay, yeah. That’s a fair reason.

There’s a cough from behind him, and Gordon turns to glower at Benrey, who seems quite smug about this turn of events. “You driving, then?”

Gordon does briefly consider asking Benrey if  _ he  _ knows how to drive, but decides that might be one of his worst ideas ever. “Unless Tommy wakes up, yeah. I guess I am.”

“Hell yeah.” Lip smack. “Gordon Freeman, fuckin’, uh- Mario Kart Wii DLC pack-”

“Benrey, please-”

“We got, uhhh, new Maple Treeway-”

“Please.” Gordon almost drops his cans in the rush to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Please. Shut the fuck up.”

Benrey, content in having pissed Gordon off enough, shrugs and climbs into the RV.

While Gordon doesn’t necessarily agree with their methods of obtaining it, he has to admit, it’s pretty fucking sweet. It’s large enough for them all to sit in their own places; Sunkist and Tommy were taking up most of the makeshift couch area, but there was another that Bubby had perched himself on, flicking through a book with mild disinterest. Coomer had been in the passenger seat before, but he was now in the small kitchen area, rifling through the little food that was left- they should probably have picked some up at the station, but it was enough to do them till tomorrow. And Benrey- Benrey had initially stowed himself in one of the overhead storage cabinets, not because there was no space on the floor, but because Benrey had a habit of finding the smallest and most confusing places to hide in. At least twice now Gordon had found himself reaching into a cupboard for cereal and found himself holding a very cold hand instead.

Now, though, with the passenger seat freed, Benrey had made himself at home near the front of the RV, still tapping away at Tommy’s phone. He’s looking at Gordon with bright, expectant eyes, clearly ready to watch Gordon make a fool of himself. As usual.

“‘s a crime to drive sleepy,” Benrey notes as Gordon sits down. When he’d sat down in the driver’s seat for the first time, he had been surprised at how comfortable it was- one of those combo plush-leather deals that soothed his back and made him feel a little better about stealing it because whoever owned it was probably rich enough to be three replacements. Now it just made him feel even sleepier.

“It’s not a crime- when have YOU ever cared about the law? I’ll tell you what’s a crime, driving a stolen vehicle, I haven’t heard you complaining about that. How do you even know the laws about cars? You can’t even drive.”

“Uh, yeah I can?”

Gordon blinks as he turns the key, hesitating. “...Really?”

“Uh huh.” For a split second, Gordon almost believes the sincere look on Benrey’s face. And then he smiles and opens his mouth again, and: “Me ‘n my buddy Josh used to play The Simpsons: Hit and Run and-”

Gordon chugs back a Monster, chucks the empty can at Benrey’s head with surprising accuracy and starts driving.

-

There’s around 40 miles between the rest stop and the next town over. Since it’s a rural road- Gordon can’t actually remember the last time they saw another vehicle- it should only take around half an hour. That’s fine. That’s nothing. 30 minutes is all it takes. He can do that.

He grips the wheel, tight, till his knuckles are flushed of colour. He can do that.

The sun is starting to set properly now, providing a harsh glare through the front window that forces him to squint. It would be pretty, if he had the time to look; the light slowly being drained from the arid plains until eventually the sky turns a soft, dark blue, bathing the road with the moon’s dim glow. Back in Seattle, the pollution is so heavy you can’t see the stars; out here, it’s easy, with a wide patchwork of constellations criss-crossing and sectioning the sky into different gatherings of tiny, bright glimmers. The North Star, the Little Dipper, Orion; ones he could remember tracing with his finger in picture books late at night, underneath the covers in his old room in his old house, reading about space and planets and far away galaxies until his eyes would blink their last and drift into-

Gordon raises a hand and pushes his glasses so sharply against his face that the bridge hits painfully off his nose. Awake. The road still stretches straight in front of him.

This would be easier, he decided, if the Science Team hadn’t decided to pull off the impossible task of being  _ quiet.  _ Between Bubby peacefully reading a book (not right. It must be the Anarchist Cookbook or some shit, because there’s no way his attention span would be able to deal with anything else in such a silent and polite manner), Tommy asleep, Coomer… cooking…? Whatever the hell he was up to in the kitchen- and Benrey, still flicking through Tommy’s phone looking at nothing in particular- it was like four miracles crossed over into one. Even the nights at Black Mesa had usually been punctuated with occasional gunfire or the low hum of someone’s SweetVoice, but now, of all times, it was peaceful. The one time when Gordon couldn’t appreciate it, it was peaceful.

He drummed his fingers against the wheel and scowled. The quiet wouldn’t do. He needed something to keep him awake.

“What are you doing?” it comes across far more accusatory than he meant it, half-lidded - no, wide open eyes stealing a glance at Benrey. One of the guard’s hands has made its way upwards to toy with one of the bobbles that hangs low from his snug blue hat. Something Gordon had bought him not long after he moved in, since Benrey wouldn’t stop stealing things to replace his old helmet. 

Benrey doesn’t look up from the phone, just sort of tilts his head and grunts in acknowledgement. “Game.”

“You asked Tommy before you used that, right?”

“Course. ‘M no thief.”  _ Unlike you,  _ Gordon can tell he’s trying to insinuate. Just like he can tell that Benrey knows what a bullshit line of questioning this is; he knows this is just a way for Gordon to keep himself occupied while he’s driving so that he doesn’t let his mind drift away again, because if he lets it drift he’ll start thinking about stuff like how warm it is despite the outside probably being freezing cold by now, and if he glances in the rear view mirror he can Bubby has given up on whatever his book is and is lying back with his glasses off and probably intent on sleeping, and Tommy and Sunkist are still curled up nearby, and oh my God is Gordon t-

His head snaps up, and he swears he hears Benrey laugh.

“What?”

“You’re so sleepy, brooo.” Again with the mocking tone, glassy eyes moving away from the phone screen to give Gordon a look like he should know better. As if Benrey knows better about Gordon. Benrey doesn’t even sleep regularly. “Right?”

“I’m fine,” Gordon responds through gritted teeth. “There’s only, what- twenty minutes? Twenty minutes to the rest stop, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Benrey just huffs at that. “Don’t lie, man. Hurts my feelings.”

Rather than snapping back, Gordon just adjusts his position so his arms are taut, back pressed heavy against the plush chair.  _ Fuck,  _ that was comfy. He blinks, and almost has to force his eyes back open. Twenty minutes.   
  
“Hey-” This is a stupid question, Gordon immedaitely realises, but he asks anyway. “You know that- uh- the ball thing you do-”

“SweetVoice?”

“SweetVoice, yeah- is there- uh-” It’s all too late Gordon realises the entire point of staying awake is not admitting defeat to Benrey, something that’s becoming simultaneously a much worse decision and also the best decision he’s ever made because fuck you Benrey, he’s a third of the way there. Regardless of which is true, asking Benrey if he could very nicely blow some balls to wake him up would essentially be conceding at this point. And also would probably fog up the car windows. “... never mind.”

Benrey has a piercing gaze at the best of times, something only accentuated by the fact he doesn’t need to blink. The look he’s giving Gordon now is something that does actually have a hint of mild concern, something Gordon hasn’t seen in a while. Gross, now Benrey is pitying him. “You’re acting weird, bro.”

Gordon’s finger jumps against the wheel, waiting for Benrey to follow up. But instead he just rolls his eyes and returns to his phone.

It’s funny how fast Gordon can u-turn from a resolute decision to utter regret, or it would be funny if it happened to anyone else except him, because then it would be someone else in the stupid situations he got himself into. Maybe if he was reading this in a book or something he could laugh. But no, he’s doing this now and all he can really do is keep his hands on the wheel and blink his eyes back open every twenty seconds or so, stifling yawns every now and then. Ironically, the danger of the situation hasn’t even begun to hit him yet; that’ll probably kick in right before they barrel into a ditch. Then again, Gordon’s entire sense of danger has been utterly fucked since Black Mesa, and he’s ninety-nine percent sure that nobody else on the RV is even human, and actually considering everything that happened Gordon might not even be human either anymore- I mean, how much radiation got blasted into him when the resonance cascade happened? Now he’s pretty sure his eyes glow green in the dark and he hallucinates- well, he did that before but they’re probably worse now, though that might be the PTSD. And anyway, that suit pumped him full of morphine every time he did so much as stub his toe, so maybe there’s residual of that or some shit, maybe if he falls asleep and the RV goes off the Golden Gate Bridge (not in Colorado, he would remember if he was awake enough to care) he wouldn’t even feel a damn thing. A funny thought.

In fact, the image of the Science Team speeding into the San Francisco Bay due to Gordon’s negligence and inexplicably surviving might have even made him laugh, if not for the fact his lack of focus had resulted in his eyes drifting down, finally letting the slow ebbing waves of sleep tide over him. His entire body lurched forward, slumping over the wheel with a small groan as a tsunami of exhaustion crashed against his skull and the road in front of him blurred into the back of his eyelids. 

Eighteen minutes till the rest stop.

-

When Gordon woke up, he immediately moved to sit up and promptly smacked his head off something hard.

“Damn it- shit-” Obscenities were stifled with a loud grunt of pain and tiredness, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He was… on the floor…? Oh God, had they crashed? That must be it. They had crashed into a telephone pole and the impact had knocked him flying out of his seat and now the others had abandoned him and limped to safety. Deserved, all things considered. 

This seemed like an obvious answer to Gordon’s question, but it quickly became apparent it wasn’t true, because when he pushed himself to his feet he realised the RV was parked. Very well, actually, in a neat little corner just off the road. It was hard to see, since it was now so dark- the blinking digital clock built into the dashboard told him it was 11pm- but the faint glow of light in the distance suggested to him they weren’t too far from the rest stop Coomer had mentioned. How in the hell…?

“Hey.”

Gordon yelped quietly and turned to see Benrey, who was now leaning over the driver’s seat. Tommy’s phone was nowhere to be seen- a quick survey of the RV told Gordon it had been abandoned next to the still sleeping scientist. Bubby and Coomer were asleep together on the second couch. Nobody seemed particularly shaken or injured- especially not Benrey, who seemed to be letting himself practically melt into the soft plush seat. 

“Good sleep?” the guard asked, without a trace of irony.

“We-” Gordon blinked and shook his head again- not that he had a bad sleep, but more that he barely even remembered falling asleep. Did he really pass out like that? “Where- what happened?”

“What happened?” Benrey snorted. “What happened is you fuckin’- Mr. Gordon I Can Stay Awake-man decided to go beddy-byes while driving.”

“But we-”

Benrey raised one hand, interrupting Gordon’s interjection. “Sooo, your bestest friend Benrey took the wheel. 200CC all the way till we could park. Easy peasy.”

….so Benrey COULD drive. As though to confirm Gordon’s confused realisation, Benrey smacked his lips and tacked on a very smug “told you I was an ace at Hit and Run.”

“What, so you just..” Gordon tiredly swung his arms in a pushing motion. “Shoved me out the seat?”

“Yup.” Benrey rolled over so his back is pushing into the seat now, facing the ceiling. He still looked far more bored than someone discussing a close call with vehicular negligence should. “You looked comfier on the ground anyways.”

Gordon opens his mouth. And then he closes it again. And then he opens it again, trying to think of exactly where to start- an apology, maybe? Or a question about where the fuck Berey learned to drive (not that that would go anywhere), or if anybody else in the RV had even blinked at the site of Gordon being pushed to the floor.

And then he closes it again, because he is still far too fucking tired for any of this.

“Hey.” Benrey shifts again, propping his head up with one arm and giving Gordon an almost serious look. “Why not just sleep, dummy?”

A very good question.Surprisingly apt, coming from Benrey. Gordon shrugs, and Benrey huffs again.

“You’re so fuckin’... like, you’re always pushin’ yourself. Should stop that.”

Gordon almost laughs at the advice. “Are- are you being serious?”

“Yeah, man, you’re like-” Benrey raises his arms in a vague gesture that Gordon can only assume is meant to signal exasperation. “Like you’re going for- you know in Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games?”

Okay, so this is how they’re going about it. Gordon’s not sure why he expected a genuine conversation out of Benrey, but rather than questioning it he flops into the passenger seat and nods tiredly. “Yes, Benrey, I know all about Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games,” says the man who has never played Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games in his life.

“Like- you’re always going for the gold, okay? You want to get gold medals in all the events SOOOO badly. But you’re so- you’re so annoying about it cause you always wanna play Bowser, and Bowser’s a Power type so he sucks at all the Speed events. Like if you were playing and All-Arounder like Amy it’d be fine, but-”

Gordon doesn’t know what Benrey is fucking saying, but that’s par for the course at this point.

“Just- you don’t have to be so-” Benrey waves his hands again, face scrunched as though he’s genuinely lost for words. “Such, uh-”

“A little bitch?” Gordon supplements.

“A little bitch!” Benrey nods in agreement.

Maybe he should feel insulted by that, but instead Gordon looks over the darkening Colorado horizon and nods sagely. Maybe he has been a little bitch.

“‘S fine when you’re, like, playin’ a video game or whatever, but…” Benrey hesitates again, suddenly refusing to meet Gordon’s gaze. Always a telltale sign he’s about to say something genuine. “... Black Mesa made me like, godmode no damage cheats on, but you’re a little flesh boy, you got brittle bones. Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Wow.” Despite the crude metaphor, Gordon can’t help but be a little endeared. “That could be the most sincere thing you’ve ever said to me, dude.”

Benrey pouts, flicking a finger against his hat. “‘S true.”

And it is true, Gordon thinks. In his own stubborn haze and desperation to prove Benrey wrong- for the stupidest reason, too- he hadn’t just put his friends at risk, but himself, too. Of course, that was always the last thing he thought of. Self preservation is a beast he’s not too familiar with. He groans and runs a hand through his hair, letting his finger idly start to undo his hair tie. “...you’re right. Sorry. I was… really fucking stupid today.”

“Whatever, dude. Just, uh.” Benrey pauses before looking back at Gordon, his typical warm smirk returning as he pushes Gordon playfully. “Watch out, stupid. You’re not a Forza pro like me, can’t drive with your eyes closed. Gotta be more careful.”

Gordon snorts and nods tiredly. “...yeah, alright. Thanks, Benrey.”

Benrey’s smirk seems to shift to something more sincere- a genuine smile, and a nod- before vanishing again as he stands properly. “A’ight, well- nighty night, Gordon.”

“Nighty night,” Gordon echoes, letting his hair spill over his shoulders. He’s still tired enough that he could probably fall asleep right in this chair. So, not long after Benrey leaves him to crawl into his spot in the overhead cupboards, he does.

And in the morning, he doesn’t protest when Benrey offers to drive first.

  
  



End file.
